


I Had a Bad Day

by Emeli_Thorne



Series: Send a Pic, Get a Fic prompts [5]
Category: Sweet Virginia (2017)
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, cleo worries, follow up on More Than a Crush fic, mentions of sam's daughter, mentions of sam's daughter's death, sam disappears, sam is still grieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeli_Thorne/pseuds/Emeli_Thorne
Summary: Sam shows up at Cleo's at one a.m. bringing his tragedy and sadness along with him.





	I Had a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrankCastlesTankTop (SecretlyWritingFanfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyWritingFanfic/gifts).



> tumblr prompt by @frankcastlestanktop
> 
> Part of my [send a pic, get a fic concept](http://lightblindingme.tumblr.com/post/175767597144) of writing fics for the month of July
> 
> Cleo is my OFC I created for my Sam Rossi fic More Than a Crush. This fic is set a few months after Sam and Cleo get together.
> 
> I'm sorry if this is too ooc for Sam, my mind wasn't really in a cooperative mood.

 

 

“Tell me, Sam. You can trust me,” Cleo tells him, running her fingers through his hair and trying to make him speak.

It’s been an hour since Sam woke her out of her slumber at one a.m. looking the worst she has ever seen him. There are shadows under his eyes and his hair is more dishevelled than usual. That, and the fact that he’s only wearing a hoodie over his naked torso indicate he got dressed in a hurry with no regard to his appearance.

Cleo invited him in, made him some coffee and sat beside him on the couch.

He hasn’t spoken a word and Cleo’s not sure what she’s supposed to do save for keeping her hand on his trembling one and murmuring words of assurance she’s not sure he even hears.

“You’re safe here, Sam. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He’s silent still, lips unmoving, the coffee in his hand already cold while his gaze is trained on the newspapers lying scattered on the coffee table.

As she debates whether to leave him there, hoping he would fall asleep eventually or keep hoping he would talk to her, Sam closes his eyes and mutters, “My daughter died six years ago.”

Her lips form an ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Cleo’s fingers stop massaging his scalp, body freezing. Suddenly, her living room is ten degrees colder and she can’t speak.

She’s known Sam for some time and they’ve even been dating for a couple of months, but he never told her anything about his family. Not that she never inquired because she did; especially after seeing that beautiful framed photo of a woman and a girl sitting on a nightstand by his bed. Sam always tried to hide it, but she caught a glimpse of it two or three times and yet chose to respect his decision to keep it to himself.

This was the last thing Cleo expected.

_Died. Six years ago._

Today’s the anniversary of her death, she realises with great sadness overcoming her heart.

“She was seven. We...” his voice echoes the room and when he stops speaking it becomes as silent as a tomb until he speaks again, voice heavy and full of pain. “We were coming back from her dance recital.  She told us she had a headache. I thought it was just exhaustion. She’d been practicing for weeks.” Another pause as Cleo keeps her palm over her mouth, afraid she’ll say something or make a sound and interrupt him.

“A week later she was gone. My wife found her lying on the couch, thought she was asleep.”

Cleo waits a few more minutes to see if he will continue. He doesn’t.

Lacing her arm with his, Cleo leans her head on his shoulder, her breathing growing heavier as tears start streaming down her face. Sam is still not moving, though he starts to sob. Weakly at first, then it’s like a dam opened up and a torrent of tears makes its way from his eyes.

Turning abruptly and surprising her, Sam buries his wet face in her chest, arms coming around her to hold her as close to him as possible.

His sobs are loud and full of pain, of regret over future he will never have, of love he will never be able to give.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”

Sam cries in her arms until he’s tired and there are no more tears left. Meanwhile, Cleo rakes her fingers through his hair and kisses his temple, holds him close to her like she can somehow wrap him in this love she has for him and keep all this hurting at bay.

It’s half past three when he finally falls asleep right there on the couch, still holding onto her.

Cleo pulls a blanket over them, praying that morning would bring them both some peace.

*         *          *          *         *

He’s already gone when she wakes up in the morning. The only sign he was there, the coffee mug, is not on the coffee table.

Cleo tries calling him and even visits the motel in hopes of speaking to him, but Rosie tells her he hasn’t been at the motel since yesterday evening.

It’s so unlike Sam that by noon Cleo is seriously considering visiting sheriff’s office and asking them to go look for him. Her stomach's in knots; she couldn't even finish her breakfast.

She doesn’t open her salon at all that day, though she does spend it sitting on the stairs, eyes following every car that passes her by. Her cuticles are bleeding from how much she’s been picking on them waiting for him, checking her phone every few minutes for any missed calls.

No sign of Sam.

At ten, she finally decides to go home. Darkness has long since descended onto streets of their town, but Cleo is too distracted to notice anything, even the dark.

When she gets home, Cleo settles on the couch and covers herself with the blanket, something telling her Sam might show up tonight.

She waits and waits and waits until her eyes can’t stay open anymore and exhaustion overtakes her body.

*            *           *           *         *

It’s one a.m. when a knock rouses her from sleep and she rushes to open the door without even checking who it is.

“Sam!” she cries out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he places his hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry. I had to be alone.”

Caressing his cheek when they pull apart, Cleo dares to finally let out those tears she has been holding. “Can you be with me now?”

Nodding, he squeezes her hand, “I can’t be alone anymore.”

After shedding their clothes, they settle in her bed, Sam holding her firmer than last night.

“Thank you, Cleo.”

There’s nothing else she can respond save for a silent, “I'm here for you, Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comment on the fic, it really makes my day.
> 
> If you want, you can leave a prompt for this series on my tumblr or here in the comments.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at lightblindingme :D


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